


It's broken again

by Laramie



Series: Things you said [14]
Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-23
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-25 06:50:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4950715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laramie/pseuds/Laramie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jimmy starts working at his and Thomas's clock shop, one of the customers causes friction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's broken again

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by not-your-blogger. Big thanks to BlueTilo for beta-reading & saying such helpful & encouraging things! =D

**November 1925**

"Get ready for bachelor day," Thomas teased at breakfast. "You get 'em all on Saturdays because they're working during the week and don't have a wife to run errands for them."

"And have any of these bachelors caught your eye?"

"Now, now, Mr Kent, you know I've got a partner."

Jimmy grinned. He had just that week begun working in the clock shop that Thomas ran and they both owned, and this would be his first Saturday shift. Before this, and ever since they had moved to York together a year and a half ago, he had been working in a pub a few streets away to help secure an income for them both until the shop took off. Jimmy had started in the shop the past Monday, with Thomas working alongside to help until Friday, when Thomas had gone for his call-out repair service and left Jimmy in charge. Once Jimmy was trained up, they planned to work three days a week each; Sundays, of course, they were closed.

Thomas had joked before that Saturdays were rich pickings for single women, and now Jimmy would see for himself. Once they had finished their eggs, they filed downstairs and set about their usual morning tasks.

It was a fairly slow day, considering it was a Saturday, so Thomas brought downstairs one of the watches he had been given to mend and sat tinkering with it at the counter, while Jimmy had time to chat to and charm all the customers who did come in. He made a reasonable number of sales, to young ladies especially.

Around 3pm, a young man - perhaps twenty, but no more - did a double-take upon seeing Jimmy behind the counter and made a beeline for Thomas.

"Hello, Mr Barrow."

Jimmy watched as Thomas looked up from the pile of clock innards scattered across the counter. "Good afternoon, Mr Grant," Thomas replied. "Back again?"

"It's grandma's carriage clock," Mr Grant said, indicating the clock in his arms without taking his eyes away from Thomas's face. "It's broken again."

Thomas tutted as he reached out to take the clock, moving further down the counter to avoid getting the parts mixed up. "It's such a delicate little thing."

Jimmy was glad to see that Thomas's attention was fixed firmly on the clock, because Mr Grant's decidedly wasn't. He was staring at Thomas as he concentrated, then suddenly his eyes flicked to Jimmy and he cleared his throat.

"I see you have a shop assistant now."

Thomas did not glance away from the clock as he said airily: "Yes, this is -" He stopped abruptly, and when he looked up at Jimmy the naked terror that Jimmy could see in his eyes suggested that he had been about to say something like _this is my lover_.

"Jimmy Kent," Jimmy finished smoothly, extending his hand and gripping Mr Grant's perhaps a little too firmly.

"Nice to meet you, Mr Kent," said Mr Grant, while Thomas returned his attention to the clock. "I'm Sidney Grant."

Jimmy smiled tightly.

"Have you been here long, then?" Mr Grant asked, talking to Jimmy but still letting his eyes flicker over to Thomas.

 _Longer than_ _ **you**_ , Jimmy wanted to snap. Instead, he said: "Just since Monday."

Mr Grant's attention wavered again. "Oh, I see," he said, fidgeting.

 _You're an obvious little shit, aren't you?_ Jimmy thought.

"Ah," came Thomas's voice. "You've a gear grinding down. It makes the clock stick, but it's easy to fix - just needs a bit of a clean. I can do that for you, but not today. You'd have to come back and collect it."

Jimmy did not miss the spark that flared in Mr Grant's eyes as Thomas said that.

"Er - thank you," Mr Grant said. "Are you very busy, then?"

"Indeed," Thomas said. "I've this to repair -" he indicated the broken watch - "and the accounts to do tonight. I don't just sit here idle, you know."

Jimmy smirked, catching the jest, but Mr Grant said hastily: "Oh no, no, I wasn't saying that you do -"

"Goodbye then, Mr Grant," Jimmy interrupted.

Mr Grant stuttered through his goodbyes, saying that he would return next Saturday, before turning and leaving the shop with a jangle of the bell above the door.

Jimmy let the silence stretch between them for a few seconds. Thomas was already newly engrossed in the broken watch. Jimmy tried not to sound accusing as he said: "You never told me you had an admirer."

Picking up a tiny piece of the mechanism, Thomas stared at the bit of metal in his hand. "Hmm?"

"Mr Grant. You've got yourself a fan."

Thomas paused then, looking up in confusion. "What? No I haven't."

"Oh come on, I've never seen someone so obvious. He's even less subtle than you were."

"I can be subtle," Thomas said, still fiddling with the watch in front of him.

"You're about as subtle as a puppy," Jimmy said, smiling fondly. He watched Thomas working. "What are you going to do about him, then?"

"What do you mean?"

"Mr Grant. You'll have to put him off."

Thomas gave Jimmy a strange look. "Don't tell me you're jealous."

"I'm not," Jimmy said, and it was true, though it would not have been once. "But he's going to get himself in trouble if he's not careful, and us too. I won't let him."

"I'll think of something," Thomas assured him, but Jimmy could tell that Thomas still only half believed his assertion that Mr Grant had taken a liking to him.

* * *

The following Saturday, Sidney Grant returned to pick up his grandmother's carriage clock. Thomas had promised to talk to him, so both he and Jimmy were in the shop that morning. When Mr Grant arrived, Thomas drew the lad away into the corner and spoke in such a low voice that Jimmy, at the counter, could only pick out the odd word.

When they were finished, Mr Grant came over to shake Jimmy's hand with a look of great emotion on his face. Jimmy returned the handshake, baffled, and Mr Grant left the shop without saying another word.

Before Jimmy could ask what it had all been about, another customer entered the shop, and Jimmy had to serve him. Thomas left with a wave before the customer did, so Jimmy was left in the dark all day.

When 5 o'clock arrived, Jimmy locked up the shop and took the day's takings to the bank, then traipsed up the stairs to his and Thomas's tiny shared flat. He found Thomas in the living room, sitting at the small second-hand table they had set up on one side of the room. As had quickly become a habit, Thomas had made a pot of tea for them to share.

Jimmy squeezed round to sit opposite him; Thomas put down his book and poured them each a cup. Jimmy watched his hands moving, one a little paler than the other - he sometimes left the glove off at home.

"What did you say to Mr Grant, then?"

Thomas gave a small, wry smile. "Thought you weren't jealous."

"I'm not, I'm just nosy."

Extending his arm, Thomas touched Jimmy's hand where it was still wrapped around the teacup. "I got him to admit it first, then told him it could never happen between me and him, and that you and I are together."

Jimmy went cold. No one ever found out. They had not told anyone. Only Mrs Hughes, Baxter, Anna and Bates truly _knew_ , though a few others had made implications. Most of the staff at Downton had probably guessed, though they had left a few weeks apart from each other to minimise suspicion. In York, there was no one. York was where Jimmy felt reasonably safe, because they were mostly anonymous here.

"What the hell did you do that for?" Jimmy hissed, spilling hot tea over his fingers in his haste to pull his hand away from Thomas.

Thomas looked taken aback. "It's the truth," he said uncertainly.

Jimmy swore at him quietly, but Thomas just stared back. "Come on," Thomas said, rising from his chair. "Let's get that hand of yours under cold water."

Though he did stand up, Jimmy sighed and said: "I'm going to bed."

"Darling, it's barely half past five," Thomas pointed out, sounding hurt.

"Yeah, well, I'm going upstairs," Jimmy muttered, and turned to do so.

Thomas followed him out of the living room and into the dark hallway. "Just wait! Why are you so angry about it? I told him nothing would happen."

Jimmy turned and said firmly: "Thomas. It's fine. I just need some time on my own."

A blink, then Thomas said quietly: "All right then."

Jimmy nodded once and offered a weak smile before making his way upstairs. As he had agreed, Thomas did not follow.

Very quickly, Jimmy remembered how boring it was to be in his bedroom on his own. The fact that he shared the room with Thomas, and so was surrounded by all Thomas's things, only made the absence of the man himself more obvious.

Flopping back on his bed, Jimmy flung out his arms and stared up at the ceiling. The truth was, Jimmy had grown comfortable with life over the past eighteen months. Thomas and Jimmy were private and fairly anonymous; their closest friends were still Anna and Phyllis, both of whom still lived in Downton village though the latter had plans to move to Scotland with Molesley. Now, Jimmy felt, strangely, as though Thomas had exposed him in front of a knife-wielding crowd.

The problem was, he didn't want Thomas to think he was ashamed or embarrassed about their relationship. Thomas was the best thing in Jimmy's life, and Jimmy would joyfully tell the entire world that he was Thomas's boyfriend if only he wasn't so damned scared of how disapproving people were out there. He was afraid that Thomas might not understand that distinction.

Jimmy rolled onto his side and curled up tight. He wasn't used to dealing with things on his own any more; Thomas always helped him work through his feelings and problems, even if that was only by holding him tight and promising to always be there. Jimmy loved Thomas more than he had ever thought himself capable; he couldn't bear to make Thomas think that Jimmy was ashamed of him. And so, instead of going downstairs and shouting at Thomas for revealing Jimmy's deepest secret to a stranger without asking (which would no doubt lead to an argument but would at least get everything out in the open), Jimmy borrowed one of Thomas's books, since all of his own magazines were strewn around the living room and shop. He sat reading and going out of his mind with boredom, wanting nothing more than to be downstairs with Thomas, cuddled up together on the sofa.

Around seven o'clock, he nipped downstairs to make toast. Thomas did not come out of the living room and, despite still being angry, Jimmy worried that he had upset Thomas. He skulked upstairs with his measly tea, ate it miserably on the floor to avoid getting crumbs in the sheets, and went to bed ridiculously early so that he could pretend to be asleep when Thomas came upstairs. _How dare you_ , he kept thinking. _How dare you tell that kid about us?_

When Jimmy finally heard Thomas's feet on the stairs, he closed his eyes and listened to Thomas washing up before bed in the little bathroom. Thomas came into the room quietly and changed with a rustle of clothing before slipping into bed with Jimmy. After a few seconds of shifting, Thomas stilled. Jimmy felt Thomas's hand being laid on his shoulder, and ruined his illusion of sleep by instinctively jerking away. Behind him, Thomas sighed deeply.

"Get off me, traitor," Jimmy grunted.

Heatedly, Thomas whispered: "Oh would you just -" He stopped abruptly. "I'm sorry," he said more calmly. "Are you angry because I didn't ask you first whether to tell Mr Grant about us?"

Jimmy pushed himself up to sit against the pillows so that he could look down at Thomas in the dark. Thomas looked back, his pupils wide and his eyes worried and guileless. "Yeah," Jimmy admitted quietly. "Not because I'm not proud to be with you, because I am. I just want us to stay safe."

"I know, love," Thomas replied. Without sitting up, he put one hand on Jimmy's thigh; then, when Jimmy did not protest, slipped his arms around Jimmy's waist and laid his head in his lap. "I just wanted him to know he's not alone. I sort of forgot it's not just my news any more."

"You are silly," Jimmy said, running his fingers through Thomas's hair despite himself and trying to ignore the way his body was responding to Thomas's proximity. His anger had not quite dissipated, but it was being taken over by tenderness as Thomas apologised.

"I've kept this secret on my own for thirty years." Thomas's hand drifted onto Jimmy's upper thigh, close to his own skull. "But I'm not keeping it on my own any more, I know that." Jimmy saw the side of his face smiling. "I'm keeping it with you."

Thomas's hair fell gently through Jimmy's fingers. "Yes, you are," he agreed.


End file.
